


all the devils are here

by TheFeistyRogue



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Caring Hannibal Lecter, Caring Will Graham, Fluff, Gen, Hannibal Lecter Being Hannibal Lecter, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 01, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFeistyRogue/pseuds/TheFeistyRogue
Summary: Hannibal gets shot by a tranquilliser gun. Will looks after him.





	all the devils are here

“Will!” Hannibal cried, tumbling them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs and confusion. Will groaned as Hannibal rolled off him, but made no move to stand. 

Then Will noticed the tranq dart in Hannibal’s leg. Hannibal pulled it out with a hiss and threw it to the floor beside him. He followed the projection of flight and scrambled for his gun, levelling it at the bewildered man. 

“Why did he do that?” the man asked, gazing sadly at Hannibal, the tranq rifle hanging loosely from his fingers. “I only wanted you.”  

The man turned to stare at Will. “So pretty…” he said. Will shivered, and curled his fingers tighter around the trigger of his gun. 

“Drop the weapon,” Will ordered. It clattered to the floor, and moments later Jack burst into the warehouse and took the man down.  

Will holstered his side arm and turned to Hannibal. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, falling to his knees beside the other man. Hannibal actually smiled up at him and patted Will’s thigh. 

“It is merely a mild sedative, however enough of the drug has been absorbed into my bloodstream that I will require supervision for the next twelve hours to ensure my respiration does not drop below optimal levels,” he said cheerfully. He then tilted his head to examine Will. “Also, I am not fit to drive.” 

Will snorted a laugh. “You’re high,” he observed. He turned to Jack.  

“I’m going to take Dr Lecter home, okay? I’ll come in tomorrow for a debrief.” 

Jack nodded and waved them off, busy interrogating their suspect. 

“Rude,” Hannibal said mildly. “Jack is very rude.” 

Will grinned and helped Hannibal to his feet. Together they stumbled to Will’s car. 

Hannibal sat there and looked carefully at his hands, then clasped them together. Will sighed and leaned over Hannibal to buckle him in.  

Hannibal caught Will’s wrist as he pulled back. 

“Just you,” he said very seriously. 

“Okay,” Will said. 

The journey back to Hannibal’s house was peaceful; Hannibal content to watch the world go by out of the window. He was equally delighted to enter his house, eventually producing his keys from his pocket with a flourish, and explored the ground floor, examining each piece of artwork as if he’d never seen it before. Will made them a glass of water and some toast while he did that, which they ate in the study. 

“That was the best slice of toast I’ve ever had,” Hannibal informed him. Will flushed, even as he knew it was the drugs speaking.  

“Somehow I doubt that,” he mumbled. Hannibal stood and began to pace around the room, before stopping in front of a painting that Will vaguely recognised. 

“This is The Birth of Venus, a print of one of Sandro Botticelli’s most famous works. It was commissioned by the Medici family in the late 1400s. Plato argued that Venus represented both physical and intellectual beauty, and that physical beauty better helps the mind understand spiritual beauty, although I would argue that the beauty of the mind far outshines and further elevates the beauty of the body,” Hannibal said. He turned to Will and closed the distance between them in three steps. 

“Your hair is very soft,” Hannibal said quietly as he stroked a hand through it. Will froze in place, and then relaxed gradually as all Hannibal seemed to be interested in was petting his curls. 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

Hannibal smiled at him, and Will realised it was entirely genuine. Hannibal had a well-practised mask that he showed to the world, but this wasn’t it. 

“I think perhaps I should like to sleep,” Hannibal decided, and disappeared out the door. 

Will sat there for a few moments, then followed, not wanting to leave Hannibal alone. He cautiously made his way up the stairs, and found Hannibal’s bedroom, the door left open, an obvious invitation. 

Hannibal was in bed, lying on his back with his eyes closed, his hands clasped over the covers. 

“Hello Will,” he said without opening his eyes. “There is a chair in the corner you may use to observe me from, and you may take anything off the bookshelf if you wish to read.” 

Will scanned the shelves and then picked up a copy of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. There was just enough light to read by, but not enough that it would keep Hannibal awake, and certainly not in his narcotized state. 

Hannibal’s breathing slowly evened as he drifted off to sleep. Will glanced his way every couple of minutes, before hurriedly returning to the play. He felt as if he were seeing something entirely too intimate for what it was. 

Hannibal looked peaceful and vulnerable, two words Will never would have applied to him in his waking state. Will almost wanted to stroke Hannibal’s cheek, touch Hannibal’s hair to return the favour. Instead, he kept his hands to himself, and only granted himself a brief respite each time he glanced at Hannibal to check that he was breathing consistently. 

Hours passed and Will went and made himself some tea and toast as he got hungry. It was just short of the ten hour mark that Hannibal awoke. 

He blinked sleepily, but his gaze immediately settled on Will, warm and welcoming.  

“Hello,” Hannibal said, his voice rough with sleep. “Could you tell me the time?” 

Will checked his watch. “It’s a little after three in the morning,” he said. 

Hannibal hummed in acknowledgement, and his eyes drifted shut. Just when Will thought he’d fallen asleep once more, his eyes snapped open. 

“I have been entirely remiss in my duties as a host,” Hannibal said, sounding horrified. 

Will flushed. “Not at all,” he hurried to reassure him. 

“Food,” Hannibal said. “And wine, and a bed, these are all things you should have, don’t you think?” He struggled against the covers as if to push himself up. 

Will was there in an instant, gently pushing Hannibal back down. “I already made myself some toast,” he said, certain that his cheeks were cherry red. “And I’m comfortable here.” 

Hannibal’s smile was a thing of sunlight. “As you say, Will. But please, help yourself to whatever you wish.” 

“Thank you,” Will said gruffly. He sat back down and settled the play he’d been reading on his lap. 

“Read to me,” Hannibal demanded, his tone dreamlike and distant. Will opened the book to a random page. 

“Ariel: Not a soul, but felt a fever of the mad and played, some tricks of desperation. All but mariners plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, then all afire with me. The king’s son, Ferdinand, with hair up-staring – then, like reeds, not hair – was the first man that leaned, cried ‘Hell is empty, and all the devils are here!’*” 

Will glanced at Hannibal, whose breathing had evened. In the dark of the room his face was half in shadow, half in light, bathed in the pearly gleam of moonlight. His lips were slightly parted and the light was such that the usual hue of vivid pink had bled out of even them. 

Will cleared his throat, and turned back to his book, and continued to read. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *Shakespeare’s The Tempest Act 1 Scene 2 Page 10
> 
> These boys... I always come back to them.


End file.
